birth stories

Six years ago, the snowiest coldest night.  Our midwife, Kathy, came down from her house on top of the mountain, and we waited.  And the snow stopped, and at four in the morning, Joey and I went out for a walk.

It was just a yard walk, and the next day, we would see the circle in the snow where he tromped and I shuffled alongside.  It was a little circle, and it started out with a perfect arc, four feet through the deep snow.  The track showed exactly where I stopped, looked at Joey, and said, "Inside, now."  Then the tracks went right back to the house.

Then next morning there were hello kitty shaped waffles for breakfast, and baby Rose was a few hours old. Sadie, not quite two, wrote a poem as she dipped her waffles in syrup.  My mother had woken her up to see her sister coming into the world, and she recounted the whole adventure to us.
                                    
Kathy here!
Grandma's arms.
Mommy Ow!
Baby head.
Hello Kitty Waffles!


I had no idea that I would love that baby enough to try to learn how to make frosting roses.  But there I am, six years later, trying to craft sugar and shortening into flora.  Thank the sweet god of frosting for Marya, who had trucked her daughter down to the entire expanse of the county even though she was supposed to be making an Oscar themed cake for her sister-in-law.  She patiently led me through the frosting roses process, and then when I could make nothing better than a clumsy carnation, she made those roses herself, and of course she taught Molly who was far better at it than I.  And so my sweet winter night baby got those frosting roses that she wanted so badly.

Both of the girls' birth stories have become such a integral part of their own personal narratives. And every year, we celebrate them. Sadie on her spring day, the baby who just wouldn't come until the sun hit that perfect pink setting point.  And Rosie with her full moon snowy walk in a circle.  Over the years I tell the stories, and I forget that they weren't quite here yet for them.  I forget that what I'm really talking about is those last few moments before the world existed without them.  It's almost unthinkable to imagine, but somehow by repeating the stories over and over, I bring them into that world too.  They know just what happened, so they must have been there. 

This year, the winter baby wanted a dinner party.  With salmon.  And kale (so she could have cake, of course). And popovers.  And chocolate cake with vanilla frosting.  And yes, frosting roses. She was so polite about it all, and she would check in with me every few days.
"Have you figured out how to make my cake?"
Her friends dresses up in their finest and they each took a seat at the fancy table for two minutes.  And then they got up and nearly shook the whole house with laughter for the rest of the night.



We made trays and trays of popovers, and Sadie took care of everyone.


Oh, Rosie.  It's so easy to celebrate you.  Even with the frosting roses.


Again, Sadie recited a poem as everyone sat down to dinner.  She had been working on memorizing it for the last few days.  This time it wasn't hers, but A.A. Milne's.

When I was One,
I had just begun.
When I was Two,
I was nearly new.
When I was Three
I was hardly me.
When I was Four,
I was not much more.
When I was Five,
I was just alive.
But now I am Six,
I'm as clever as clever,
So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever.

Rosie's Birthday Cake
(loosely adapted from the King Arthur Baker's Companion, morphed and changed over the years)

makes 2 9-inch cakes that come together to make 1 beautiful double decker cake

For the cake:
1 1/4 cups sugar
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon cornstarch
1 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
3/4 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup canola oil
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup hot (almost boiling) water

For the frosting:
16 ounces (2 bars) cream cheese, softened
4 ounces (1 1/2 sticks) butter, softened
1 1/4 cups powdered sugar
pinch of salt
Optional: 1 tablespoon rose water

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Butter 2 9-inch round cake pans, line the bottoms with parchment, and then butter the parchment.
In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together the sugar, flour, cornstarch, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.  Add the eggs, buttermilk, oil, and vanilla, and beat with the flat beater attachment for 2 minutes.  Finally gently stir in the hot water.  The batter will be quite thin.  Pour it into the prepared cake pans and bake for 30 minutes, or until a cake tester comes out clean. Allow to cool in the pans for 10 minutes--then turn out of the pans and cool completely on a wire rack before frosting.

Make the frosting: Combine the cream cheese, butter, powdered sugar, salt, and rose water, if using in the bowl of the stand mixer.  Beat with the flat beater attachment until smooth and uniform, about 30 seconds.

To frost the cake: Set one cake on a plate or cake stand over strips of parchment, like this.  If your cakes domed a bit while on top while baking, set it domed side up.  Use a silicone spatula to cover the top of the cake evenly with about 1-inch of frosting.  Set the second cake on top of the first, domed side down (so the tops of each cake are against each other).  Use your spatula to top the upper cake with frosting.  If you have an offset spatula, use that to spread the frosting, otherwise, continue to spread the frosting over the cake with your silicone spatula, spreading the frosting over the sides as well.  Top with raspberries, or... frosting roses.


(Many thanks to Aurel for grabbing my camera and taking all of these lovely pictures.)

F

time for cake

I have been thinking about this cake all week.
After our dinner party on Saturday, I kept finding treats in the fridge. Jen had filled her car with produce from her farm, and a few bundles of this or that found their way into my crisper drawer. There was the most beautiful bunch of rhubarb, and on Sunday morning, as I peaked into the fridge in a bleary "stayed up till two cleaning up and drinking wine after I spent the morning going door to to door for my campaign" sort of state, I saw that rhubarb and I said,
"Screw it all. I'm going to make rhubarb cake."


Of course, I don't have time to make cake. I don't even have time to make a sandwich. The past few weeks, you might walk into the kitchen and find me eating potato chips for lunch, or cold cuts out of the fridge. It is not a good time for my belly right now.
So on Sunday, I did not make a cake. On Monday, I did not make a cake. On Tuesday, I did not make a cake.
On Wednesday, I made a cake.
Life did not mysteriously clear before my eyes. I didn't find myself standing around with nothing to do. But I did go into that fridge, and I saw that rhubarb, and it called to me.
"Stop! It's time to make cake!"
I closed the computer. For some strange and coincidental reason, my phone actually stopped working. And as I creamed the butter and beat those eggs in one at a time, I thought,
"I never want to be so busy that I can't make a cake."
Because a cake like this takes no time at all. If you take out the butter to soften in the morning, you can spend 15 minutes sometime later in the day, even less if you are a speedy chopper (which I, sadly am not). And then the house smells like butter and sugar, and there is a pan on the counter that radiates with golden light. You know cakes that do that? They make a kitchen feel like a place you want to sit, no matter how busy you are. Because who doesn't have time for a piece of cake? A cup of tea, or a glass of milk, and then back to it.


This cake is one of my favorites. Simple, not so sweet, and super moist. It is nice enough for dessert, but also perfect for tea, and just permissible for breakfast. Rhubarb is the fruit of choice at the moment, but the it can act as a great base for a raspberry or blackberry cake. Creme Fraiche or whipped cream could be nice, but really there is no need. The cake and fruit do just fine together on their own.

Rhubarb Cake
loosely adapted from Erma Mabel's Rhubarb Cake, Moosewood Book of Desserts

(Fills a 9x13 pan, which is a lot of cake, but it stays good for several days. If you prefer to have less cake, halve the recipe and use an 8x8 square pan)

2 sticks butter, at room temperature
1 1/2 cups sugar
6 eggs
3 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup buttermilk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/4 pounds chopped rhubarb (about 5 cups), cut into 1/2 inch pieces

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 9x13 baking dish.
With an electric mixer, cream the butter and sugar until light, about 1 1/2 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, beating after each addition.
In a separate medium mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Combine the buttermilk and vanilla in a measuring cup.
Starting and ending with the flour mixture, alternately add the dry and wet ingredients to the butter mixture, beating after each addition.
Spread a bit more than half of the batter in the prepared pan. Sprinkle the batter with the rhubarb pieces. Then cover with the rest of the batter, taking care not to press the rhubarb into the bottom batter layer. Bake for about 40 minutes, or until a knife, when inserted, comes out clean and the top of the cake is golden.

kid's cookbooks

People often think that I know my stuff when it comes to kids in the kitchen. Since I write about cooking and parenting, I guess it would make sense, but the truth is, I'm just trying to figure it out.
The girls are 5 and 7 now. They can read, especially the big one, and they can tell sugar from baking soda. They can totally make a cake on their own.

As long as I put my hands over my eyes.

I need to be in the room to put the thing in the oven, but otherwise, I'm no help at all. I wince as the tablespoon gets confused with the teaspoon and I judge the clumpiness of the batter. The only way I can help is to let go and let it all happen.

Easy, peasy.

The truth is, the worst thing that can happen is that the cake doesn't come out so well. They're happy about it anyway and it was a good way to spend an afternoon. I can tell you that it is a really good thing to let your kids make their own food in the kitchen. It's worth working on, and that's why I'm still here, taking deep breaths and and trying not to draw blood from my lip in the corner while Sadie is about to spill oil all over the table.

I am able to do this because they are reading the directions by themselves. There is a book, open to the chocolate cake page. Sadie's friend Aurora is reading the directions and interpreting the pictures. Sadie is measuring and stirring. And because the girls have learned that a cake is not a cake unless someone is taking pictures of it, Rosie chronicles every moment with the camera.

We have three cookbooks for children in our house, and I love them all for different reasons. These cookbooks speak directly to the kids; they often use pictures to explain the recipes, and the recipes themselves are simple yet good enough for us all.

This is the newest book in our little collection, and it is showing a whole lot of promise. Our friend Naya included it in the best care package in history, and Sadie was busy looking through it before Rosie could put all of the cupcake printed bandaids all over her skin. Mollie Katzen and the whole Moosewood family have not let us down yet, and so far Honest Pretzels is no exception. It contains snacks, meals and desserts, from spunky chili to the grilled cheese and broccoli sandwich to Peanut Butter doo-dads to dinner rolls. Kids need to be able to read for this one, and she really speaks respectfully to them, which I love. Not only are the recipes simple, they are foods that kids actually want to eat.

Way back when the girls were tiny, we had a visit from our friend Liz's mother, Anita. Anita is one of those home bakers who makes absolute magic in her oven. Everyone tries to get in her good graces so that they can score a box of goodies from her in December, and her chocolate chunk cookies are pretty much the best in the world. She came for dinner that night, on a visit out from Denver, and we talked about baking most of the time. A few weeks later, there was a package, with a little thank you and this book. The girls were maybe 2 and 4 we pretty quickly moved through the whole thing. The girls would sit on the couch together, picking out recipes as though they didn't have the whole book memorized. The Baking Book is filled with basics- birthday cake, scones, and shortbread cookies, but the recipes are all done through pictures. This layout is what makes this book great for younger children- they can really lead you through the recipe. The recipes have all worked for me, and the birthday cake is actually one of our go-to cakes.

Of the three, this is the book that we have used the least, although not for any lack in its quality. I think we're just not quite there yet. Fanny at Chez Panisse is written from the perspective of Alice Waters's daughter, and it goes through several of Alice's more simple and basic recipes. It is beautifully written and pleasing to look at, and I think that it is perfect for a child of eight or nine who is really discovering themselves in the kitchen.

Made-in-the-Pan Chocolate Cake
from Mollie Katzen, Honest Pretzels

1 1/4 cups unbleached white flour
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa
1 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup water
1/3 cup canola or vegetable oil
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon cider vinegar or white vinegar

Ask an adult to turn on the oven to 325 degrees. Put the flour, cocoa, sugar, salt and baking soda into a square glass baking pan. Mix it slowly. taking turns with a fork and a soup spoon. until it is completely light brown. Peek through the bottom of the pan to make sure that you don't see any more white. When it is all mixed, make 4 dents with a spoon- 2 large and 2 small- in the mixture. Measure 1 cup water and pour it into one of the large dents. Measure 1/3 cup oil and pour it into the other larger dent. Measure one teaspoon vanilla extract and pour it into one of the smaller dents. Measure one teaspoon vinegar and pour it into one the other smaller dent. Begin stirring with a fork in little circles to get all of the dry parts wet. As it turns into batter, start mashing it down with a fork. After you mash it a few taimes, scrape the bottom and stir. Do this again many times- mash, scrape, stir. When the batter is smooth, scrape the sides one more time with a rubber spatula and spread it into place. Clean off the edges of the pan with a damp paper towel. Ask an adult to put the pan in the oven. Set the timer for 30 minutes. Ask an adult to take it out. Cool for 30 minutes before cutting and eating.

Buttermilk Spice Cake

Somehow, Joey and I have been lucky enough the last several years to be part of a miraculous thing called work party.
Five or six years ago, a few families got together with an idea of how to help each other out. On a given Sunday morning, everyone would head over to one family's house and do some work. The kids would play and wreak havoc. Then everyone would eat. The next month, the group would reconvene at someone else's house and do it all again.
Yeah, I know. It's a really good idea.
Within the first year there was some shifting, some turnover, and somehow Joey and I ended up getting invited to join in the fun. We were a little bit worried. Somehow the group was comprised of a disproportionate amount of builders, engineers, and all around skilled people. We had a few skills to offer- Joey could make a really great mix tape for the morning and I could organize myself a mean bookshelf. But over the years, although we may not be much more skilled than we were then, we've done a lot of things in work party we never thought we could, albeit sometimes poorly. And the girls seem to see work party as some family reunion with cousins- it's somehow related to family for them. It's a really really good thing.

We had work party this past weekend over at the farm. Luckily, there was a birthday involved and I got to make cake. I guess I do have one skill to bring to the table.


This is the first spice cake that I have made and liked. A few years ago, Joey requested a spice cake for his birthday and it was dry dry dry. This seems to be an issue in spice cakes. But not this one. This one held up like a champ, and I frosted it with a not too sweet cream cheese frosting, and added in a bit of quince butter, because it was there on my shelf, and you know how I feel about quinces. Those funny looking purple things are little candied violets, just because I happen to really like the birthday girl.
I have to admit to you, although I've gotten into the habit of making a whole lot of cakes these last few years, I have never cut a layer in half. But I did it this time, and it was entirely undisastrous. With a good serrated knife, so many things are possible.
And I've got to tell you about one more thing. When I was getting ready to frost this baby, My friend Brandee was right there, cutting pears or doing some other work-y thing. She's one of those engineers I was telling you about, so you know that she's going to have some good ideas. She suggested that I put strips of parchment around and under the outside of the cake, like this.


That way, after the the whole thing is frosted, you can pull out the strips and you have a clean cake plate. So simple, yet it would never occur to me. That's one reason why it's a good idea to have all of these engineers and builders around.


Buttermilk Spice Cake
adapted from Flo Braker, as seen in Food and Wine

For the cake:

• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 2 1/2 cups sifted cake flour
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
• 1 cup buttermilk, at room temperature
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 sticks (6 ounces) unsalted butter, softened
• 1 cup (packed) light brown sugar
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 3 large eggs, at room temperature

For the frosting:

• 1/4 cup butter, at room temperature
• 8 ounces cream cheese, softened
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 cups confectioners sugar
• 2-4 tablespoons milk

• 1 cup apple, pear or quince butter
  

1. Preheat the oven to 350° and position a rack in the lower third. Butter and flour two 8-by-2-inch round cake pans. Sift the flour with the baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, salt and cloves onto a sheet of wax paper. Combine the buttermilk and vanilla in a small pitcher.
2. In a standing electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, beat the butter at medium speed until creamy. Add the light brown and granulated sugars and beat until light and fluffy, about 4 minutes, stopping once to scrape down the bowl. Add the eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the flour mixture at low speed in 3 batches, alternating with the buttermilk mixture, just until the batter is smooth; stop the mixer occasionally to scrape down the bowl.
3. Divide the batter evenly between the pans. Transfer the pans to the oven and bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until the cakes begin to shrink from the sides. Let the cakes cool for 10 minutes, then turn each out onto a rack, invert onto another rack and let cool completely. Wrap each cake in plastic and store at room temperature overnight.
4. Make the frosting: Cream together the butter and cream cheese. Add the sugar and mix well. Add the vanilla, and enough milk to get the frosting to a good consistency.
   
5. Cut each layer in half. Alternate your fillings between apple, pear or quince butter and cream cheese frosting. Finish by frosting with the cream cheese frosting.
   

nectarine buttemilk cake with lemon verbena sugar

I had a funny day yesterday. I know that funny is not a good word to describe anything, it might as well be interesting, or nice, and you'd have equally no idea what I was trying to get at. But in reflecting on it, that's all I've got. I'll try to explain.
Yesterday was a home day. I get these sometimes, in between work days and other days, and I cook through these days, and do laundry, and call the health insurance company about confusing bills and things like that. At times, I am wonderfully efficient on these days. They are precious, quiet stretches of useful time that I never could have imagined I would be so fortunate to possess just a few short years ago. These are the joys of working part time and having two kids in school. And I mean joys with all sincerity.
But some sort of strange alchemy has occurred within my work ethic the last few years. I come from a very efficient and working Jewish depression era family, and we all work like crazy. But in the past, I've been pretty good at turning that off. I am a girl who knows how to enjoy my leisure. Or was, at least. As I've gone into in greater detail in the past, I went straight from college into motherhood, and those are my two most recent states. Last year the little one went to school, and these days emerged, and as I said for the most part, they are wonderful, but sometimes, a deep restlessness comes out. I wake up with a long list of things to do, and I just can't bring myself to get through it, and so I pace around, feeling bad about my inefficiency. The truth is, it is hard to bring myself to do what I know I should in these situations, which is give up the to-do list and take a minute, for a walk or a book, or just spacing out on the hammock. I think that having two little kids and various jobs over the years has taught me at the cellular level that I must be doing something useful at every moment.
Which brings us to yesterday. It is Rosh Hashanah, and although we've got nothing in Jewish celebration department, the girls had expressed interest and I wanted to do something to mark the occasion. So I was going to make challah. But I didn't. And I didn't do the other things that I set out to do either, so I paced. But yesterday, in my restlessness, I went outside with my new camera. We took a peek at the fall coming.


And then we enjoyed the sky, and the land behind the house.



We played with f-stops for a while, and my restlessness oozed away. All of the sudden I was so motivated. I hadn't made challah, but I wanted to make something to surprise the girls when they got home. The two things that I know about Rosh Hashanah are that it is a holiday of sweets (thank you Aunt Cindy) and a time for reflection (thank you Uncle Michael). So I'd make a lovely sweet, a poor substitute for challah with honey, and we'd have a lovely picnic when we got home, and talk about reflection on the year. It was all set out in my head, and it was beautiful.
You can see where this is going by now, I'm sure.
So I pick up the ladies at school, and Sadie says, "Are we doing anything special today?" And I say yes, and that perhaps they would want to save their granola bars that I had packed for the car for another time, because there was something nice at home waiting for them.
You'd think this might be good news?
No, not on a Friday afternoon with tired and unpleasant children. They got the plan out of me. Rosie said that she wanted her car snack instead, that she didn't want a picnic or cake. Of course she felt quite a bit of emotion about this declaration, so she screamed it the whole way home. Sadie was more excited, and patiently sat in her seat, thinking about the picnic to come. But of course when Sadie starts thinking, we get into some trouble, because she has some very unique anxieties.
"Momma?"
"Yes, Sadie?"
"I'm feeling worried that we're going to go home and have cake now, and then Daddy will come home and he'll have cake after dinner, and we will have already had our cake and so won't be able to have any more and that won't be fair and I'll be upset."
Yeah, I know. I'm starting to think that this whole thing was a bad idea.
But we made it home, and set out our blanket, and made a bit of tea, and had a picnic under a threat of rain. Rosie had a little piece after all, and everyone was happy for cake.


And I think even a bit of reflection might have happened, at least for the big one.

Rosie reflected in her own way too, I think.

Maybe I'll make Challah next year.


Nectarine Buttermilk Cake with Lemon Verbena Sugar
adapted from Gourmet, June 2009

1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 stick unsalted butter, softened
2/3 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 large egg
1/2 cup well-shaken buttermilk
3 medium nectarines, pitted and sliced
1 tablespoon lemon verbena sugar

Preheat oven to 400°F with rack in middle. Butter and flour a 9-inch round cake pan. Whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Beat butter and 2/3 cup sugar with an electric mixer at medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, about 2 minutes, then beat in vanilla. Add egg and beat well. At low speed, mix in flour mixture in 3 batches, alternating with buttermilk, beginning and ending with flour, and mixing until just combined. Spoon batter into cake pan, smoothing top. Arrange nectarines in a pattern on the top, gently pressing them in to the cake, and sprinkle the lemon verbena sugar over the nectarines. Bake until cake is golden and a wooden pick inserted into center comes out clean, 25 to 30 minutes. Cool in pan 10 minutes, then turn out onto a rack and cool to warm, 10 to 15 minutes more. Invert onto a plate.

Daring Bakers Challenge... cake and ice cream!

Somehow I ended up going for the cliche on this one, and I made this on Valentine's day. Now it's been a couple of weeks so I need to emotionally recreate the evening for myself. You can come along too.

OK, OK, here we go...
My friend Molly was coming back from Istanbul, and her mom and brother came over too. Joey fulfilled his constant fantasy of valentine's day lasagne by making it himself, and then we at cake and ice cream.


It was very good.
All of it.

The next day there was more cake, luckily, because the kids slept through the first time. It was still very good.


The February 2009 challenge is hosted by Wendy of WMPE's blog and Dharm of Dad ~ Baker & Chef. We have chosen a Chocolate Valentino cake by Chef Wan; a Vanilla Ice Cream recipe from Dharm and a Vanilla Ice Cream recipe from Wendy as the challenge.

Although the hosts provided an ice cream recipe, they also encouraged creativity in this part of the challenge. I had a freshly borrowed copy of David Lebovitz's Ice Cream Bible for food bloggers, and I went delving there. Somehow I ended up at Anise Ice cream, which sounds not so delicious to me, but in his golden pages David said that I should try it with chocolate and it would blow my mind, so there I landed. I felt very daring.
Let me say here that this is a cake that should be in everyone's repetoire. It is easy and really amazing if you are a chocolate person. So after you finish reading this, go buy yourself a large hunk of chocolate and make this cake.




Preparation Time: 20 minutes
16 ounces (1 pound) (454 grams) of semisweet chocolate, roughly chopped (I used dark chocolate, but you can be creative here)
½ cup (1 stick) plus 2 tablespoons (146 grams total) of unsalted butter
5 large eggs separated

1. Put chocolate and butter in a heatproof bowl and set over a pan of simmering water (the bottom of the bowl should not touch the water) and melt, stirring often.

2. While your chocolate butter mixture is cooling. Butter your pan and line with a parchment circle then butter the parchment.
3. Separate the egg yolks from the egg whites and put into two medium/large bowls.
4. Whip the egg whites in a medium/large grease free bowl until stiff peaks are formed (do not over-whip or the cake will be dry).
5. With the same beater beat the egg yolks together.
6. Add the egg yolks to the cooled chocolate.
7. Fold in 1/3 of the egg whites into the chocolate mixture and follow with remaining 2/3rds. Fold until no white remains without deflating the batter. {link of folding demonstration}
8. Pour batter into prepared pan, the batter should fill the pan 3/4 of the way full, and bake at 375F/190C
9. Bake for 25 minutes until an instant read thermometer reads 140F/60C.
Note – If you do not have an instant read thermometer, the top of the cake will look similar to a brownie and a cake tester will appear wet.
10. Cool cake on a rack for 10 minutes then unmold.

David Lebovitz was entirely right about the anise ice cream. It's subtle, and has a fantastic texture, and it brings out the flavor of the chocolate. I have a licorice hating family, and everyone gobbled this one.

Anise Ice Cream from The Perfect Scoop by David Lebovitz

makes one quart

2 tsp anise seeds
2 c heavy cream
1 c whole milk
2/3 cup sugar
1 1/2 T honey
pinch of salt
5 large egg yolks

Toast the anise seeds over moderate heat in a medium saucepan for about 3 minutes, or until they become fragrant. Pour in one cup of the cream, then add the milk, sugar, honey and salt. Heat until warm, then cover, remove from heat, and let steep at room temperature for 1 hour.

Rewarm the anise infused milk mixture. Pour the remaining 1 cup cream into a large bowl and set a mesh strainer over the top. In a separate medium bowl, whisk together the egg yolks. Slowly pour the warm anise infused milk mixture into the egg yolks, whisking constantly, then scrape the warmed egg yolks back into the saucepan.

Stir the mixture constantly over medium heat with a heatproof spatula, scraping the bottom as you stir, until the mixture thickens and coats the spatula. Pour the custard through the strainer and stir it into the cream. Discard the anise seeds and stir until cool over an ice bath.

Chill the mixture thoroughly in the refrigerator, then freeze in your ice cream maker.